Padre Dearest
by Tarafina
Summary: Fourteen years into the future, Tony DiNozzo has made a life for himself, but an old familiar face drops in wanting to make amends.


**Title**: Padre Dearest  
**Category**: NCIS  
**Rating**: T**  
Genre**: Drama/Romance**  
Ship**: Tony/Abby  
**Other Characters**: Mario DiNozzo, Maria DiNozzo, Leroy DiNozzo  
**Word Count**: 5,391**  
Summary**: Fourteen years into the future, Tony DiNozzo has made a life for himself, but an old familiar face drops in wanting to make amends.

**_Padre Dearest_**

_November 20th, 2023_

Tony DiNozzo arrived home with time to spare; a quick glance at the clock told him they wouldn't be walking through the door for another thirty minutes. That gave him plenty of time to kick off his shoes, turn on Sports Center and catch up on the highlights. He hadn't had time to get all the details on the weekend's game and had instead been stuck neck deep in a case since last Thursday. He needed details so he and Lee could argue stats and just who really was this year's star player.

His work suit was tossed away and replaced with an old Ohio State jersey and a pair of loose sweatpants. Knowing his all-too-expensive Italian clothes would wrinkle should've made him cringe, and a decade ago it would have. But he was beat and he had a good repertoire with the owner of the drycleaner. If he got a discount every few times, it was just his charm working overtime. But he had more than just himself to take care of now and bills were steep enough without him adding to them. Still, one suit wouldn't send them into bankruptcy. He mulled over the complication a little while longer before deciding he'd get to it later.

Just as his bare feet began making headway downstairs toward the living room there was a loud knocking at the front door. Muttering under his breath about bad timing, his shoulders slumped as he returned to the front hall. As a creak sounded beneath his foot, he was reminded once more that he really should get it fixed already. Despite his wife's loud proclamation that it was like their own built-in burglar alarm, their bedroom was on the second floor and it was rare for any criminal to come waltzing through the front door. Not to mention they already _had _a state-of-the-art alarm system that couldn't be tampered with by even the most cunning of criminal minds.

When the ring of the doorbell accompanied another knock, he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'm coming, hold on!" he shouted.

Since his phone hadn't gone off and he'd just seen the team not twenty minutes ago, he was guessing it wasn't them. And as he opened the door, the shock of who was staring back at him nearly stole the sarcasm right out of him. _Nearly_.

"You're not the exotic dancer I ordered," he greeted with a quick tilt of his lips.

His father was none-too-pleased. "Try to contain yourself."

"Well… Looks like it's going to be another _fine_ day," he replied, quoting John Wayne in _The Cowboys_ (1972).

Mario DiNozzo didn't get the reference, instead standing stiffly with his crisp silvery-brown hair glinting in the late-afternoon's sun. He stood with wide shoulders, his chin lifted in a show of defiance and a waif-thin brunette at his side, her arm looped with his.

"Brought my new step-mommy by to see me?" he snarked, batting his eyes amusedly.

"You going to invite us in?" Mario inferred irritably.

With a sigh, he stepped back, motioning wide for them to enter his humble abode. "Please, do wipe your feet, we have no maid here at Casa DiNozzo," he called over his shoulder before walking toward the kitchen. No doubt his father would want a stiff drink to accompany this surprise visit. He'd play along. For now.

Mario's expensive Italian shoes clicked along the hardwood floor, nearly as loudly as his wife's high-heeled Prada's did.

He poured a decanter of Scotch, not his father's usual brand of Macallan 18 but it would have to do. One ice cube later and he handed it over before searching the fridge for his own drink. In between the soy milk, cans of coke, lunch-sized bottles of Sunny D and six pack of his favorite beer were a pitcher of fruit juice and a few bottles of water. He grabbed a water for himself and offered another to Wife #4 who took it and held it tight to her chest while she surveyed his kitchen as though it were infested with mice. And at one time there had been a small family of them burrowing under the sink, but he'd taken care of it a few years back and hadn't had to toss cheese out for them at his wife's behest since.

Sliding onto the stool at the kitchen's island, he waited impatiently for the reason behind this visit to come to the forefront.

"So…? You missed Thanksgiving the last twenty plus years, I'm guessing this isn't about the upcoming holiday." His brows rose with less subtlety than a freight train.

His father's face pinched with a scowl. "Always were to the point."

He smiled sarcastically. "Musta got that from mom."

Mario didn't reply, looking away with a passive expression. "How long have you lived here? Last I looked in you had a studio apartment downtown."

"Some dad's check in more often than every ten years or so." Before he could reply, he added, "Six years this winter. Got this place on a steal." With a rather proud smile, he couldn't help but say, "I know a guy who knows a guy."

"I'm sure."

Cracking open his water, he took a swig and shuddered at the obvious discomfort in the room. "You feel that? That's like… a couple decades of cold shoulder overflowing."

Mario frowned. "I was talking with Maria and she thought it was ridiculous how long it had been since we last saw each other." He reached back to take Wife #4's hand.

"Mario and Maria, huh?" He chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

"That's all you have to say?" his father asked, the strict tone of his voice all too familiar.

"I'm sorry," His brow furrowed acerbically, "Is this the part where we all hug and sing Kumbaya?"

Mario sighed, rubbing his forehead with his palm. "Could you manage a little respect?"

Tony shook his head. "For you? No."

Mario's face became austere. "I raised you, put a roof over your head, I—"

"Threw me out over twenty years ago? Told me I was no longer your _son_?" He nodded, face taut with tension. "Yeah, I remember that pretty damn clearly."

He took a deep breath, turning his severe face in the opposite direction while he muttered curse words in his native language.

"'Rio," Maria soothed, "Think of your heart."

Tony bit his tongue before he could infer that he'd never thought his father _had _one. However, the front door opened just in time and his jaw clenched tightly as he realized who was home.

"—and then Mrs. Leibowitz said that there was no way I was telling the truth and I couldn't've done it all myself. She told me you musta helped me! And I said no way, dad helped me do research but that was it. And she said that dad probably didn't even know what a book _was_ and I said he did too because he reads to me all the time and then she said—"

"I am _so _going to go in and see that Mrs. Leib-a-whatever tomorrow! I didn't do anything but supply copious amounts of Caff-Pow! when you were working your little butt off on that!"

"Yeah!" Lee exclaimed. "And she said that I'm not allowed to drink that in class anymore either! She said I get too hyper but I don't think so! I just think she's mean!"

"Me too!" she agreed.

Tony stood up from the stool he'd been perched on to welcome home his wife and son.

"Tony!" she exclaimed happily, despite having seen him less than an hour ago. Reaching out, she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tight and kissing his cheek. "You have _no idea _what Lee's teacher said to him today! Totally uncool!"

"I bet I can guess," he said, chuckling under his breath. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he stepped back from her to look at his son who was grinning up at him, one of his front teeth proudly missing.

"Boy do we gotta talk, dad!" he told him with an overdramatic sigh. "Mrs. Leibowitz is a real crank and she said a whole bunch of really stupid stuff today!"

"Yeah?" He grinned. "You can tell me the gist of it at dinner, all right? Why don't you go put your stuff away and get cleaned up?"

With a nod of his head, sandy brow hair tilting to the side from its previous faux-hawk, he turned and hurried toward the stairs, still wearing his dirty sneakers and dragging his backpack behind him.

Looking around him at the stiff couple at the kitchen's island, Abby's brow furrowed. "Hi!" She waved curiously. "You're not vacuum salesmen, are you? Because I got duped once before and I'm _so _not going for it again…" She chewed her lip. "Unless it's a _really, really _good vacuum. But I'm not an easy sell, so you better have _some kinda _pitch!"

Holding back his laughter, Tony shook his head. "They're not selling anything, Abs…"

She looked up at him a moment before nodding slowly and turning her gaze back to Mario. "Oh… I totally see the resemblance now."

Mario rose and held a hand out to her. "Mario Anthony DiNozzo, madam."

With a lifted brow, Abby took his hand and shook it broadly. "Abby ScuNozzo," she replied with a smile, "Or Abby DiNuito, I haven't decided yet."

"It's been eight years, Abs… We can't keep merging our names on government papers, they'll get suspicious… Eventually." He shook his head, turning his eyes upward. "Besides, you signed the marriage license as Abigail DiNozzo."

"I was still in the middle of the moment, Tony! I can't be asked to think impartially when I just got married!" she cried out.

He blinked at her. "Your mistake, my reward."

Pouting, she turned back to look at Wife #4. "And you must be Mrs. DiNozzo, hi, nice to meet you."

Maria nodded plainly. "Yes, thank you."

"Well…" Abby looked around uncomfortably. "I'm gonna go see if Lee wants to help me feed Marvin… Are you staying for dinner?"

"No," Tony answered before they could reply. "They'll be leaving soon."

With a nod, she began backing away. "O…kay…"

"And don't overfeed Marv," Tony pleaded. "Eventually he is going to be food for Lancelot, all right?"

Abby sighed. "I _told _you… Lancelot is going to be a vegetarian, I can _feel _it."

As she skipped toward the stairs, he shouted after her, "He's a snake, Abs… And snakes eat mice!"

"Not this one!" she sing-sang back.

With a laugh, he simply shook his head.

Stopping on the stairs with a grin, she lifted her hand to sign "I love you," to him before skipping further upstairs.

Reminded of his visitors, his happiness was short-lived however.

"You married," Mario stated unnecessarily.

"Yeah, eight years ago. I would've sent an invite but…" He shrugged. "I didn't."

His father grimaced. "And Lee… He's your son?"

"Leroy Alberto DiNozzo… But Ab's usually calls him Lee-Bert… It's an… Abby-thing," he mused, nodding to himself.

"How old?"

"Seven… And no, I didn't marry her because she was pregnant," he sighed, rolling his eyes.

"I didn't say that," Mario bit out, nostrils flaring with irritation.

"You were thinking it," Tony said, unencumbered by his father's superiority trip.

"You seem to have a lot of assumptions about me."

"They're not assumptions if I've witnessed them first-hand," Tony argued, walking past him to retake his seat on the stool. His father was still standing, his wide shoulders making him appear larger. He remembered a time when his father's tall frame used to force him into submission, where answering back was not an option. Now, however, after he'd lived a life without the overbearing image Mario had always made, he'd picked up the tool of sarcasm and disinterest like a shield.

Letting the subject drop, Mario instead surveyed the room, taking in family pictures and the easy-going atmosphere and set-up of the house. "Your wife, she's…"

"Beautiful, funny, intelligent beyond comprehension?" His brows lifted mockingly. "Ding, ding, ding. Congratulations, _padre_, but unfortunately there's no prize for stating the obvious. Better luck next time."

Mario's lips thinned. "I was going to say that she is unlike many of the women you had dated before her."

Tony nodded. "Yeah, that's the best part."

Uncomfortable with the subject but unable to avoid it, he tried once more. "She is… dark in dress. Almost…"

"Gothic?" Tony grinned.

He cleared his throat, giving a short nod.

"She is." He lifted an undaunted shoulder. "But I've gotten used to the ritualistic offerings of virgins and poor, defenseless animals… The coffin we sleep in is a little harder to get accustomed to though…"

The bemused expression that crossed both Maria and Mario's faces were priceless.

Admittedly, there were no rituals except for Wednesday's game night and Abby's favorite, Saturday's concert/movie-thon. Every weekend they either went to one of her concerts or stayed in to watch his movies, that way neither of their interests were overlooked but they could still spend time together. The coffin-bed, however, was real. He'd had it specially made for her on their first anniversary; a king sized coffin-shaped bed frame where the hooks on the side that were used to carry the "deceased" were actually handles to the bed's drawers. There was no top but the black linens were good enough for Abby's liking. It was just enough Goth for her to love and just enough regular-bed for him to cope. But his dad wouldn't care for the explanation and really, he didn't want to share. He hadn't expected Mario to walk back into his life and the last people he wanted his father to have contact with was the family he had built, one that was _nothing _like his own childhood.

The room soon became silent with the unsaid and Tony bit back anymore caustic retorts, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. When Abby returned, he wasn't sure if he was happy to see her or not. He'd rather she stayed upstairs with Lee but soon even his son was following in her steps and standing at his side, leaning against his legs.

Looking up at him with a too-innocent face, Lee signed in question, "_Can I have ice cream?_"

Tony snorted.

"Ooh, yeah, don't we have strawberries too?" Abby asked hopefully.

Shaking his head, Tony signed no to his son and then half-smiled at his wife's insistent pout.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she tilted her head on his shoulder. "But dinner's not even started… It won't spoil _anything_…"

"I love you but there's no way I'm letting either of you eat dessert before dinner… Now, if you're good…" He sent a privately heated look at his wife, "You'll get dessert in spades."

"Rats," she sighed before kissing him promptly and lingering a moment longer. Finally, dragging herself away, she stared down at Lee with wide eyes. "Five bucks says I beat you to the swing-set!"

Giggling, he shook his head. "Make it ten and you're on!"

Laughing, she started running, her platform boots heavy on the floor. She was moving slowly enough that Lee could easily beat her, but not so much that she wasn't putting on a good show.

"Coats! It's cold out!" Tony called after them.

"Yes, _dad_!" Abby replied teasingly.

As the door slammed behind them, Tony was returned to the quiet of the kitchen.

"You love them very much," Mario commented.

Gritting his teeth, Tony held back a defiant reply and instead nodded.

Maria huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at her husband. "Tell him, _amore_. We did not come all this way for you to _litigare…"_

"I'm not arguing…" Mario muttered, shaking his head.

"You are and I will not stand by and see you fight with your son all afternoon." Hands stuffed on her hips, Maria lifted her chin primly. "You will tell him what you want to say and you will do it _now_, _marito_." (husband)

Her accent was thick in her voice and Tony was somewhat stunned by how strongly she fought with his father. Previously, nobody had stood up to Mario in such a way.

With a heavy sigh, Mario put his untouched decanter of scotch down. "I do not drink anymore… I have been five years sober this January…"

Tony could've been knocked on his ass by a feather after that declaration.

"I know this may come as a shock but I could not accept the things that I did to you or your _madre_…" (mother) "I was… unforgivable." He shook his head, turning his eyes down in shame. "I did not come here seeking forgiveness but… Maria has helped me see the error in my ways. I should not have avoided you, _figlio_." (son)

Tony was shocked silent; a first in a very long time.

"Your family, your… life… I have been away from it and you for a very long time…" Finally, lifting his gaze, he met Tony's eyes. "I cannot apologize enough, but if there is one thing that brings me great happiness it is that _despite _my presence in your life, Anthony, you did good. You…" He reached out, placing a heavy hand on Tony's shoulder. "I am proud to call you son and I am sorry that I did not see that earlier."

With a happy sigh, Maria decreed, "_Finalmente_." (Finally.)

Tony looked between them, unsure and uncomfortable.

For all of his childhood this man had been a violent drunk. He'd overpowered, manipulated and psychologically weakened all of those around him; most importantly, his family. Tony had grown up always on his father's bad side, waiting for the next yell or slap or punishment. Most of the reason behind his issues with commitment stemmed from the relationship between his parents. There had been little to no love there and they certainly hadn't offered any to him, either. It was only through Abby that'd he'd begun to share himself fully and openly and now the one man who had shadowed his life for so long had come to apologize for those actions.

He'd imagined this situation a million times in his head. His father would one day realize just what his son was; a good man. Someone to be proud of, somebody to boast about. He'd look at _Anthony DiNozzo_ and think "_That _is my son!" and Tony would just as easily shrug that praise away. Because by that time, he would have no need for it. As a child, he'd done everything he could to get his father's love and affection. But the only thing Mario ever wanted of him was to make sure he didn't disgrace the DiNozzo name and to be on hand when he wanted another drink. Disinherited and tossed from the family like some nameless distant relative, Tony had accepted his plight in life and decided that whatever happened, he would be _nothing _like his father or his mother. And now, today, he wasn't. But he couldn't spit in Mario's face like once he'd wanted to and he didn't know why.

Abby burst through the door once more, her pigtails lopsided and a flush to her cheeks. "Hey!" she greeted before skipping toward the fridge. "Lee-Bert needs some refueling." After rustling through the fridge, she reemerged with a couple Sunny D's, kicked the fridge door closed with her foot and then circled the island. She stopped, however, when she caught sight of Tony's face. Pausing, her brow furrowed, she dropped the bottles to the counter and after taking a moment to glare at Mr. and Mrs. DiNozzo she returned her attention to her husband.

Signing, she asked him, "_What's up, Buttercup?_"

Seeing as some words didn't translate well in ASL, years ago when they'd first started dating he'd asked her to teach him to sign and in the process they'd come up with a few of their own gestures to show affection and share jokes others wouldn't get. It'd taken him awhile to get the hang of but when he did he used it to his advantage whenever Gibbs, the only other person that would be able to read their hands, wasn't around. However, they'd been caught more than once during heated signing exchanges and much like usual, he'd received a slap to the head and a stern 'Get back to work!' Gibbs-glare.

"_It's nothing_," he signed back halfheartedly.

"_Hey! What's my number one rule?_" she reminded, hands moving with a little more aggression.

He smiled. "_Never lie to Abby._"

"_Exactly_." She pinned him with a serious expression. "_So spill._"

Glancing at his father and step-mother, he frowned, noticing how the two of them were watching in confusion, talking quietly in Italian with each other.

"_He came to apologize_."

Her eyes lit up. "_That's good, isn't it?_"

Should be, but was it?

"_I don't know_."

Sighing, she moved closer to him, sliding easily into his lap and smiling lightly when he had to readjust on the stool to suit the both of them.

"_Make any heavy jokes and you're sleeping on the couch_," she signed jokingly.

He widened his eyes innocently. "_Didn't say a thing._"

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "_So… Tell me… What's wrong?_"

Lips pursing, he leaned his chin on her shoulder, arms wrapped around her waist, he talked with his hands in front of her, using her body instead of his own for certain gestures. "_I don't know if I can forgive him_."

"_Did he ask you to?_"

"_No._"

"_Did he ask for anything?_"

He inhaled her gun-powder perfume and found himself relaxing some. Why it was easier to express himself in sign he would never know, but it helped. "_I think… I think he wants to be apart of my life… Our life._"

"_Do you think he's changed?_"

In his line of business, he was a man who needed proof for any conclusions he came to. "_He said he isn't drinking_."

"_That's not what I asked_."

He paused, contemplating the question, rubbing the top of her thighs absently as he mulled it over. "_I don't know… It's been a long time; I don't know him well enough to judge_."

She nodded, leaning back against him. The heat of her small frame against his own forced him further into comfort. A lifetime ago, he wouldn't have imagined being this straight-forward with a woman, never mind openly showing affection in front of someone he had once considered an enemy.

Finally, she asked what he hadn't yet answered for himself, "_Do you want to know him?_"

"_I'm not sure_."

Turning her head, she looked up at him, her warm green eyes centering something in him. "Whatever you choose," she said softly, "I'm all in."

He grinned before sealing their lips together in a sweet kiss. She tasted like candy; the kind a person would give up their last dollar for. Soft, with an infectious character; unforgettable. She nuzzled his nose and grinned up at him. "Do your thing, _amantore_…" (lover) "I'll be playing with the rugrat!" With a wink she hopped off his lap, gathered up the juice and left toward the backyard once more.

"Be careful!"

Twirling around, she saluted him cheekily. "Sir, yes sir!"

Left alone once more, Tony had a lot to think about. "I don't wanna rush this," he told Mario plainly. "I don't know you, not really. And I can't promise I'll like you when I do…" Standing up, he held a hand out. "But I know that apologizing isn't easy and while I might not be able to accept it yet, I can try to… Given some time."

Mario sighed, relief etched in his stern face. Taking his son's hand in his, he shook it heavily. "Your wife… She is like mine, I think…" He glanced at Maria, lifting a brow. "They are more insightful than us men."

Tony chuckled. "Try not to tell Abby that, her ego is almost as big as mine."

"You're a good match, you and her," his father commented, nodding as if giving his blessing somehow.

"If she wanted the moon, I'd find a lasso," he replied, referencing _It's A Wonderful Life_ (1950).

Mario stared at him a moment, lost in thought, before finally giving a sharp nod. "Maria has written down our contact information, that way… It is all up to you in this matter."

Giving up control was something Mario Anthony DiNozzo had never done in his life and Tony felt just a little _less _bitter because of the fact.

"Right, well… It was… weird but, you know… _good_ seeing you…" Rubbing the back of his neck, he shuffled his feet before taking the piece of paper Maria was holding out and placing it under a cow magnet on the fridge.

He followed them toward the front entrance, noticing how Mario looked around the room rather reverently. "You have many memories here."

There were pictures all over, of friends and family; the team and Abby. Lee's first moments were caught on camera and despite being exhausted and having smeared mascara under her eyes, Abby had put up the picture of the three of them in the hospital shortly after Lee came screaming into the world. Their wedding picture sat prominently on the wall; featuring her in an old-fashioned wedding dress made of white lace and him in a black and red tux. They made an unusual couple, he knew that; not only in looks, but in actions too. But they met on a different plain altogether; she was the light to his darkness and vice versa. The furniture and knick-knacks reflected that as well; all in all, his house was a home well lived in by a family that very much loved each other. He couldn't ask for better.

When they paused at the door, Maria reached out to pat his shoulder. "I'm glad you are making amends with one another… He has been cranky and moody for too long. It has taken time and patience but now that he has seen the error of his ways I think you can rebuild the family you were meant to be."

Tony couldn't agree or disagree so instead he simply nodded. Leaning in the doorway, he watched them pull away from the curb and drive down the road, once more leaving his life. For how long, he didn't know.

"Dad!" Lee shouted, grabbing his attention quickly. "Mom said I could help make dinner 'cause she's gonna go take a nap! Can I? Please?"

"I dunno," Tony drawled, closing the front door to walk toward his son as he hopped excitedly on the floor, staring up at him hopefully. Reaching down, he picked Leroy up from beneath his armpits and hefted him high in the air, grinning as his son laughed. "You all cleaned up? A good chef has to be ready and prepared. Clean hands, bud!"

"Can I wear my lab coat?" he wondered, eyes glittering.

He could just imagine how the customized lab coat Abs had given him last Christmas would fair when met with dinner preparation. "We're making spaghetti, Lee. Sauce and white coats do _not _go together!"

"Pleeeeease!"

He got his pout from his mother and even after all these years, Tony was still a sucker. "Fine… But becareful!"

Face lit up, he nodded excitably. "Promise!"

"Pinky swear?" Tony asked, dropping him to his feet and kneeling in front of him.

"On Berty!"

"You would risk the livelihood of your favorite farting hippo?" he gasped dramatically. "Your mom would _freak _if she knew!"

Giggling, Lee shook his head. "Okay, on…" He frowned. "I got _nothin'_."

Laughing, Tony shook his head. "Just go wash your hands, I'm gonna look in on your mom."

"Okay… But _no_ kissy-face!" he ordered before skipping off to the kitchen.

"Yeah, no promises," Tony muttered taking the stairs two at a time.

He found Abby lying center in their large bed, a black pillow drawn up beneath her head and the blankets kicked to her ankles. "Napping, huh?"

Rolling onto her back, she huffed a sigh. "Without my Caff-Pow! I'm running on seriously low energy!"

Grinning, he climbed onto their bed and laid down next to her, drawling her into his arms. "I don't think it's the lack of caffeine overload, Abs," he murmured, rubbing her slightly rounded stomach. "Or it could be a combination of my very rambunctious daughter and your lack of Caff-Pow's," he offered sensibly.

"To-nyyyy… I can't _survive _like this! I'm all _blah, _all the time!"

Chuckling, he nuzzled his head against her shoulder. "Maybe you wouldn't run out of energy so quick if you weren't racing Lee to everything."

"Hey! He bet me five bucks he'd get to the car before me… And yesterday, he said I was slow because I was way old! Pfft! Am not!" she announced, the curl of her lips betraying her amusement.

"If you're old, I'm ancient."

Smirking, she reached up and brushed his hair from his temples. "Well, you are getting a little grey around here…"

Mock-offended, he gasped. "Blasphemy, DiNuito!"

Laughing, she rolled into him, wrapping her arms and legs around his frame. "I dunno, I kinda like ScuNozzo…"

With a snort, he leaned in to kiss her, running his hands up and down her back and smirking as she arched into him. Fingers sliding beneath her shirt, he kneaded her flesh from the small of her back to the nape of her neck. Her mouth fell open in a moan of appreciation while he smugly sucked and nibbled her lips.

"Da-aaad! I _said _no kissy-face!" Rushing across the room, Lee jumped up onto the bed and scurried between them, forcibly placing himself between their bodies. "We gotta make dinner and mom needs her baby sleep!"

Chuckling, Tony fell back to the bed, nodding. "You're right… Mom will stay here and nap—" Abby groaned unenthusiastically. "And you and me will make the best spaghetti _ever_, right?"

"Right!"

"Abs?"

"Right," she sighed, frowning.

Grinning, Tony hauled Lee onto his back, leaned forward to kiss Abby one last time and then started back toward the stairs.

When they arrived in the kitchen, he dropped Lee down on his foot stool so he was level with the counter while they put together ingredients.

"Hey, dad?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"Who was that old guy who was here?" he wondered, handing over the pepper when Tony put his hand out.

"He was…" He paused, looking over to his son. There was no point in lying and while there was no way to tell what the future held, he thought his son deserved the truth. "That was my dad. He's your grandpa."

Lee stared up at him curiously. "Is he deaf like Grampa Shoe?"

"No," he replied, half-chuckling at his son's nickname for Abby's dad.

"How come he never comes see us?"

"Because…" How did one explain alcoholism and bad family ties to a kid who had no idea what any of it was? "He was sick before… And now, I guess he's feeling better so he wants to come see us…" Pointing at the opened can of tomatoes, he waited for Lee to put them in his hand.

"Is he gonna be here lots?"

"I dunno yet… Maybe…" Looking at him seriously, he wondered, "Would you want that?"

Lee shrugged. "Does he like to play?"

Not that Tony could remember.

Smiling anyway, he suggested, "You'll have to ask _him _that…"

Nodding like only a child of innocence could, he grinned. "I beat mom to the swing-set today!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

And all was back to normal in the DiNozzo/DiNuito/ScuNozzo house. Abby was _trying_ to get some sleep after a long day at work and some one-on-one time with their son, he was making dinner with his favorite little man, and maybe, possibly, there had been a small dent in the baggage he'd carried around the majority of his life. He couldn't say what would come of it and he wasn't even sure what he _wanted _to happen. But something had changed, hopefully for the better. And if it didn't then he could survive; he had his wife, his son, his team, and a baby girl on the way. He survived, he became the man he wanted to, he made his family, and he did it all _his _way.


End file.
